


Heartbeats in Winter

by Captain_Kiri_Storm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Found Family, HYDRA Husbands, Here Be Rarepair Hell, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Protective Bucky Barnes, Why Did I Write This?, Winter Boyfriends, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Kiri_Storm/pseuds/Captain_Kiri_Storm
Summary: Thirty years ago, Josef made a mistake. He tried to save the man he loved and in the process, damned him.Then he awakes to fire and blood, to a snarling man gunning down his brothers in arms. He doesn't know what he did, only that the attacker and his men are lying dead at his feet. All Josef can do is wait, plan, and try to understand the world that he's woken up in. He's almost got a plan when his world is gatecrashed by a man in red and gold armor. Josef might not like the idea of submitting to a new handler, but he's willing to do it if he gets his Winter back.This time, he's not messing up. This time, he's making sure the job is done right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogbite_propaganda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogbite_propaganda/gifts).

Josef wrapped the ragged blanket around his shoulders and waited on the armored man to wake up. The bullet wound in his shoulder throbbed, but it was nothing that would kill him. His lashes, rimmed as they were with frost, seemed to weigh heavy on his eyes and he fought the urge to sleep. On a whim, he stuck part of his hand in the crackling fire. It didn't hurt. Well, not much more than the wound on his shoulder. He pulled it out when the smell was too much and watched as fragile, pink skin replaced the reddened, twisted mess. Josef tried not to do too much. He needed to keep watch - to ensure that this man didn't freeze to death. He'd watched someone freeze to death and remembered it quietly clearly.

They just became very quiet and faded away. This man, though, might have been quiet, but he wasn't fading. Well, not yet. Josef threw a few more pieces of coal on the pitiful fire. It wasn't big enough to warm the cavernous space, but it was trying. Josef still didn't think he could drag the man, not when he might have a spinal injury. Instead, he knelt down and busied himself with taking the armor off and neatly cleaning each piece. He wasn't sure what they all did and he couldn't read the lettering. Instead, he arranged them by size and function. The helmet he was very careful. Why, he didn't understand. Perhaps it was tugging at the edges of his memory and perhaps it wasn't. Josef didn't know and he wasn't torturing himself over it.

The man moaned softly. His hand moved, dislodging some of the snow and Josef's crude wrappings. He retied them, carefully wrapping over each finger to make improvised tactile gloves. Josef narrowed his eyes. The man was... nothing special. Smooth, olive skin. Short black hair. A thin, angled face marred with blood and bruises. The strange thing was the humming, glowing circle in the center of his chest. That Josef didn't touch. A part of him thought the man wasn't a man - that he was one of those cyborgs, a project created by HYDRA... well, he didn't remember that much. But he did remember fighting the cyborgs and killing. Josef narrowed his eyes.

The man was bleeding, not leaking oil and fluids. Blood wasn't motor oil and diesel fuel. Maybe this was a biological android and he was inviting his own destruction. Josef had done that, once. He'd nearly burned this entire facility to the ground. What had it gotten him? Nothing. Nothing at all. It had taken his love from him, the one his handlers called his heartbeat. All Josef had now was the vaguest memory of a face and blue eyes. A nose buried in his neck and fingers in his hair. Josef knew they were close because he saw the files - the same files he'd burned in the pyre he made for his comrades. The attackers had been left outside for the wolves once spring came.

How did he know what spring was? How did he know what wolves were? The words filled him with something he didn't understand - images of massive canines and a warmth he could only think of in dreams.

The man blinked open dark eyes. Josef paused, waiting for him to bark an order in German or Russian. He expected the man to climb to his feet, to snarl the words that would enslave Josef, mind and body, to him. But he didn't. Instead, he lay where he was. He was wheezing, but he managed to crawl towards the fire. Josef barely kept himself from snarling. He jerked the MREs he'd been eating out of his path and held them where the man could see. He'd been warming them. The extract, too. It tasted horrible, but it warmed one, inside and fingers. Josef had been melting snow for the water and pilfering the coal from wherever he could find it. It wasn't like the steam turbines had worked in... who knew how many years.

Josef didn't.

The man struggled to sit up. He was breathing harder now and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. "Who... who are you?! What do you want?!"

Josef stayed where he was, waiting for the orders. Waiting for the words that would take his... lover? Was that the word for what they were? away from him forever. Josef tensed some. A part of him, something older, told him to kill the man before he took everything else from him. Before he ordered Josef to give him the crumpled photograph in his pocket or to show him the ashes of his brothers. Josef snarled low, his grey eyes narrowing. He was about to lunge at the man, to snap his neck, but he forced himself to stop. As much as he hated the idea of submitting ever again, he had to admit that he needed out of the base. Sooner or later, he was going to run out of food and coal.

He bared his teeth again, his body tensed. "I am called Josef."

"Okay, Josef." The man grunted. He looked a little nervous, but he didn't use the words or activate the suddenly glowing armor. All Josef had was a pistol - and it still kept freezing because he hadn't cleaned all the blood out. The man pulled himself up a little more, his eyes on the pistol. "Don't shoot me, alright? I'm pretty sure I never dropped a building on your head."

"Who are you?" Josef ignored the last part. It made no sense and the cold was making his head hurt. Josef stood up suddenly, still watching the man. All he had to do was bark the words and Josef would be his. Body. Mind. Soul. The fragments he was carrying would burn away and he wouldn't know why he was carrying a faded and creased photograph. Josef grabbed the man's wrist and ignored the little scream. He slung the man over his shoulder and started half walking, half dragging the wounded and yelping man towards one of the inner rooms, the one that still had battery powered lighting.

"Hey! Hey! Easy!" the man yelled. He twisted his body some and Josef felt ribs shift in odd ways. He'd been hurt worse. "Hey! You're hurting me, you idiot!"

Josef paused and narrowed his eyes. His handler's husband told him this made him look like an ax murderer. Whatever that was. "Do you want to freeze? I can leave you to freeze and take your radio."

"Okay, first of all, it isn't a radio, that's a _cell phone_, you Soviet freak. Second of all, if you let me freeze to death, my friends will rain fire and death on your head." The man gave him a nasty look.

Josef rolled his eyes, fully aware that this would cost him later. "Whatever you say, sir. I'm sure they'll put me in my place like the bitch I am."

"I never said you're a bitch, but if the shoe fits..." The man closed his eyes and swallowed. He looked like hell and probably didn't feel much better. He did relax some when Josef dropped him in the rag pallet. Warmth washed over the both of them and Josef nudged the pot of boiling water. He wasn't sure if he wanted the extract or the tea - and he couldn't justify making both.

"Drink." Josef pressed the steaming mug of extract in the man's hands.

He took a gulp and made a face. "Thanks, I hate it."

Josef sat beside him and sipped on salty, insipid soup before offering the man some. "What's your name?"

"Tony Stark." Stark slumped into Josef's arms and hummed as the man started stroking through his hair. "Yeah. Just like that. Keep going." His eyes fluttered closed some and he eyed the fire grate. "That thing safe?"

Josef shrugged and let the man curl up against him. "It is safe."

What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Well, mostly. Josef narrowed his eyes and allowed a dry smile to cross his features. The new handler didn't know his words. He had to think that Josef was broken - that he was fresh out of cyro and a lost puppy. Well, that wasn't the case. Josef had gotten enough of his mind back to function. He remembered to eat most days and he knew how to operate every machine. The radios were smashed, though, and that was what he needed - the shiny little device in Stark's wrapped fingers.

Josef needed that little device. He needed it to find his Winter.


	2. Chapter 2

Winter paced the apartment and ignored the argument in the next room. He didn't know which one of his commanders were talking, only that Jack was trying to find a country without an extradition treaty. There had already been one fight that had come to blows. Brock was drinking heavily. He was in pain, Winter thought, and didn't want to use the pain pills. Something something "I'll get fucking _addicted_, Jack, no" more whining and complaining and fighting. Winter stopped paying attention as soon as they ignored him. Jack was trying to get them to Ukraine. It wasn't ideal, apparently, because Brock was going to stick out, but it would be better than waiting for the Feds to shoot Winter and lock them up forever.

Winter didn't want to get shot. He rubbed his shoulder, feeling the bullet embedded there. He'd been shot more than once. It hurt and he didn't like it. He shook his head and paced, trying to claw at his head. If he showed what was going on, it would be back to the Chair and to the pain that made him writhe and scream. He didn't want that. He needed to keep his mouth shut. He needed to be the weapon and remember that order came through pain. Hail HYDRA. Do not ask for your next mission, Asset, it will be given to you. His mission had been changed the moment the helicarriers came down, Commander Rollins said. Commander Rollins said a lot of things and Winter tried to remember.

It was hard. His brain didn't like to remember. It hurt and he could feel bad things that happened before he learned that Order came through Pain. That meant he'd been bad and Winter didn't want to be bad.

He clawed down the side of his face and placed his bloody, metal had against the cracked and crumbling plaster. He could hear the commanders fighting. Commander Rumlow was drunk. Commander Rumlow liked to smoke, not drink. Sometimes he shared something called Maui Wowie with Winter, if he wasn't eating and the medics said no painkillers. Winter didn't like it - it made his head feel funny. He didn't like it when he was given something called meth and "What the fuck are you doing, do you want to fucking _die_?!" and Commander Rumlow locking him up until the rage and the jitters and the bugs had passed. Winter got sick after that - he'd screamed and clawed himself to the bone.

Commanders had been mad, but not at him. Commander Rollins had been very quiet and his eyes had gotten hard, like pieces of green glass. Winter heard that some of the techs were found the next day, chopped up in little pieces in the river.

Winter crept out of the room and settled behind a couch. He could smell the beer and knew that Commander Rumlow was drinking too much. If he drank too much, all sorts of stories came out and he leaked clear blood down his face and from his eyes. He forbade Winter from trying to stop the bleeding. Winter was afraid that one day Commander Rumlow would bleed out and Winter would be punished for killing him. He shoved his fist in his mouth as he huddled up, rocking some. He could feel the men over him and hear himself screaming as they punished him over and over and over again. It had been their orders, but Winter was still punished for it. Winter failed the test and he was punished for it.

"Brock!" Jack slapped the can out of Commander Rumlow's hand. "I need you to pay attention, dammit! We have to get out of the country! Don't you have someone you can call?! The guy who owns a plane, maybe?"

"He's too old." Commander Rumlow leaned back. He was drunk enough that he didn't care about the beer that stained the carpet and his bloody clothing. "It's a bloody Sopwith Camel. There's no way it could take us across a fucking ocean." He stood up as best he could and dragged a hand through his tangled hair. Commander Rumlow shook his head. "I know a guy with a fishing boat. We could probably swing that, but I'm not sure if we can get the old plane."

"You try keeping the Asset entertained," Commander Rollins muttered.

"Then we download a shit ton of coloring books and get him the two hundred pack of crayons," Commander Rumlow sighed. "We'll hit some port in Ukraine and live there. Teach English or something. Maybe beat up Polish Nazis, I don't know."

"HYDRA is the Nazis." Commander Rollins sat down.

"Pierce didn't try to kill us after he found out."

"Pierce was screwing the Asset and he knew we knew." Rollins rolled his eyes some and grabbed a stack of papers. Winter tried not to cry as he remembered the old man and how nasty he'd been, how he'd grabbed Winter and told him all sorts of horrible things that he wanted to do. Winter had broken the man's neck and neither of his commanders were that concerned about it. Rollins rubbed his face some and turned around. "Brock, I love you, but this would be a hell of a lot easier if you were white."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't belt you across the face for that," Commander Rumlow growled. His dark eyes were narrowed and he looked like he was going to fly off the handle. Winter shoved his fist deeper into his mouth and tried not to cry out. He didn't like it. The Commanders were fighting and he was going to get punished, he just knew it.

"Because I don't want to get us killed and you don't look European." Commander Rollins rested back and dodged the beer can. "Nice try, dumb ass, but you're so drunk you couldn't hit Winter if he held still." Rollins stood up again and made a wry face. He looked tired, like he wanted something that he couldn't have. Winter wanted to help him, but he couldn't. He needed to stay hidden so he could know what was going on. He wasn't disobeying his Commanders. They hadn't told him that he couldn't listen or even that he had to forget what was being said. Winter stayed where he was until he couldn't stand it anymore. He crawled into the room, just as silent as if he was on a mission.

Winter rested his head in Commander Rumlow's lap. He looked up with gentle blue eyes. "I don't like it when you're drunk." He pulled himself up as best he could and straddled the man's lap as best as he could. Commander Rumlow muttered something, but he fell into Winter's hand like he could barely hold himself up. Winter caught him. He didn't say anything, just held the man and tried to make him feel just a little bit better. He stroked through Commander Rumlow's thick, black hair. He liked how soft it was, how clean it was. He liked how clean Commander Rumlow smelled, too. The Commanders tried to keep him clean, but it was very hard.

Commander Rollins passed him a beer and rubbed his face. "You remember Russian, right?"

"_Da, ya pomnyu_." Winter ducked his head and took a deep breath. "_Gotovy soblyudat'_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1). Yes, I remember.  
2). Ready to comply.


	3. Chapter 3

Josef waited on the man to wake up again. He didn't seem like he could take the cold as well as Josef could. He was getting tired, for one, and he was eating twice his rations. That was what Josef was worried about - he was fairly sure that they didn't have enough food to keep this going for very long. He fidgeted some, his eyes dark. This man was his link to Winter, he was sure of it. Josef just had to learn how to manipulate him into giving him what he wanted. The man, this Stark, seemed to be more interested in the technology the old base had. He wasn't interested in Josef's body, though he had every right to that. Josef wouldn't fight him off if he tried. As much as Josef hated it, he needed to find Winter.

If that meant being a fuck toy, that meant being a fuck toy. He just had to get his Winter back, no matter what it took to do it.

He nudged Stark again and went back to stirring the pot of extract. Stark didn't like the stuff - he said that it tasted like muddy water. Josef didn't blame him. He would rather have butter tea, but he didn't have butter and he didn't have animal fat, either. They had to make do with what they had. Josef tended the fire a little more, making sure to keep the small room nice and warm. Burning an open fire wasn't the most efficient way to warm a space. He didn't have a fireplace, though. What he could do was ventilate the space and knock holes in the ceiling to provide a draft for the smoke. As it was, though, the ceiling was starting to be darkened from the soot and smile.

Stark woke after a few moments. He groaned at sat up, his eyes a little disoriented. Josef ignored him. He stirred the oatmeal, sprinkling the powdered milk and sugar in to make something that tasted halfway decent. Stark didn't seem to be that grateful. "You know, I thought I was back in New York. And where do I wake up? In the asshole of nowhere, Russia, getting stared at by a smelly man who hasn't showered in a year."

Josef rolled his eyes. "We would have to melt snow to wash and risk hypothermia or even frostbite. I'm not risking my life for vanity." He would, of course, if he was ordered too, but Stark had to know that. Maybe the man would enjoy watching Josef freeze himself or even force him to stick the frozen limbs in the fire to warm them. He remembered that, he thought. He remembered his Winter, chained by the neck like a common dog, and covered in blood from a beating. His face hardened. That wasn't going to happen again, not if he could help it. He'd seen them torture Winter. Stark didn't seem to know he wasn't under control. If he needed too, he could kill the man and escape, never to be bothered again.

"I'm just saying, you smell like a homeless guy under the overpass." Stark grabbed for the extract and down the fluid in one gulp. "So. Boris. You actually have any equipment around here that isn't out of the Stone Age?"

Josef narrowed his eyes. This would cost him later, he knew, but it was going to be worth it. "My name is _Josef_. And this technology isn't from this 'Stone Age'. It is cutting edge and will do whatever you ask of it - as long as you know the programming language." And how to start the steam turbines that had literally frozen shut, but Josef wasn't telling him that. The man seemed to vibrate with barely controlled fury. He snatched the bubbling pot away from Stark and dug a dollop out with his fingers, daring the man to say anything.

Stark raised a brow. "Uh, aren't you gonna share?"

"Maybe." Josef crossed his arms like a child and dug out another one, delighted with all the grit that rubbed off. He'd eaten worse, of course, but he figured that Stark was raised on fine wines and caviar. Maybe that was why he didn't like the extract. "You can defrost the horse meat, _sir_."

"Horse meat?" Stark looked like he was going to get sick. "Did I just hear that right?"

"_Da_." Josef worked his way through the pot, stopping only to glare at the stunned man. He had to be American, there was no other way about it. He rolled his eyes, muttered a few half forgotten phrases in Russian, and shoved the still warm pot in Stark's lap. Maybe he enjoyed the way the man yelped and jumped. Maybe he didn't. Josef grabbed a torch, lit it, and stalked through the winding corridors to the larder. He grabbed the long handled knife and chopped roughly the amount he'd need from a frozen carcass nailed to the wall. He wondered why the man was turning his nose up at meat before shrugging. Stark might not have been hungry before. He'd had luxuries that Josef could only dream off.

Stark eyed the meat with disdain as Josef brought it back. "So, uh, what exactly do you plan to do with that?"

"Cook it." Josef glared at the man like he was stupid and dropped the frozen slabs on a hot rock. "Then we add salt and eat." He rolled his eyes, aware that this might bite him later, and grabbed the empty oatmeal pot to toss in the middle of the fire. The residue would cook off and be easy to scrub away with snow. Josef hunted around, making sure that this was the cooking salt and not pilot's salt before adding a few handfuls to the bloody meat. The stench of cooked blood filled the air and Josef had to fight off the memories of screaming and death. He was doing this for his Winter. He could do anything for Winter. On a whim, he pulled out the photograph and brushed the gaunt, haggard face with gentle hands.

"_Ya tak po tebe skuchayu, lyubov' moya_," Josef murmured. He folded it back, ignoring the way Stark looked at him.

"Whoever's in that picture is dead." Stark dragged himself to the fire and poked at his phone before looking up. "Do you have a generator?"

"They're all frozen shut," Josef admitted. "This old base... I burned much of it and they never bothered to repair. Friction keeps the turbines from freezing. I was waiting til spring to thaw them out."

Stark swore under his breath. "So... no generator. Shitty food, shitty company, and a guy who uses words I don't understand. Hell of a way for me to die, you know. My best friend's the guy who stabbed me in the back."

"It hurts more if you're the reason for their demise." Josef stabbed at the fire with more anger than he needed and ignored the man's questioning gaze. He fingered the bullet scar on his cheek, his eyes distant. "_Ya lyubila yego_. They... took him from me for my rebellion. Took the memories of his name from me. He was my Winter, I know that. My Winter Soldier and I was... I do not remember. But they wanted us to fight and we refused, so we were beaten and starved until we complied." He cracked a grim smile, not understanding why Stark look so ashen. "A good soldier followed orders and order comes through pain. I'm sure you understand. I will not rebel like that as long as I am alive, sir. I have learned my lesson and am ready to comply."

No, he wasn't. But it seemed to be a convincing lie, because a silent Stark took the meat and managed to eat most of it. He made some noise about checking the generators. Josef let him, content to eat the leftovers and dream of revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1). Ya tak po tebe skuchayu, lyubov' moya. - I miss you so much, my love.  
2). Ya lyubila yego. - I loved him.


	4. Chapter 4

Winter's belly rolled as he clutched the sweet roll. He didn't want it. It just didn't taste good, whatever that meant. He wanted honey crystals that crunched when he bit down and a sweet jam with seeds that stuck in his teeth, not this goopy thing that was half baked and filled with a too sweet gel. Maybe there were chunks of apple in it or maybe that was just wax. Whatever it was, Winter didn't want it. He glanced over to the Commanders, hoping they would get him something better. The sweet might turn his stomach. If his stomach turned, it could fall out of him. If it fell out, he might die or he might compromise the mission. Winter whined some. He wanted the Commanders to give him better food, but he didn't think they had any.

Commander Rumlow had already eaten his roll and drank some coffee. Commander Rollins threw his in the trash. If Winter was truly a good boy, he would kneel down on the cobblestones and beg in Russian. But since he wasn't, since he was _bad_, he was chipping his roll up and feeding it to the rats-with-wings. That was what Commander Rumlow called the pigeons. Commander Rumlow was always right -just like his other commanders were. Even if they told him things that he knew were wrong. Winter was a good boy, and he would obey. He hummed softly as he chipped up the goopy roll, watching as a white rat-with-wings fought a grey one over the gel and wax fruit. Winter smiled to himself. He wouldn't admit this, but he liked being bad.

That thought made him freeze and whine. If he was bad, he got the Chair. If he got the Chair, he screamed and screamed and screamed until his brain was mush and he drooled on himself. Winter didn't like drool. It made him feel bad and brought back ghosts of a blonde man. There was another man, too. He was dirty blonde sometimes. Other times a light russet brown. But he always had sharp grey eyes and an accent that made Winter feel loved. He was strong, too. Winter put him in the 'Commander' brain box and put the little blonde in the 'Other' brain box. He wondered if he was allowed to have brain boxes or memories. Did Commander Rumlow's gun remember every time he fired it?

Commander Rumlow looked over and glanced at the rats-with-wings. "Uh... what are you doing there, Winnie?"

"Recycling." Winter cocked his head. "You should always recycle, because pollution will destroy the environment and then the sun is going to swallow us in sixty five billion years. Then the ocean is going to boil away and we're all going to die."

"Okay..." Commander Rumlow looked a bit confused. "Carry on, then." He turned to Commander Rollins and rubbed his chin. "Do you think we could wipe him? Because this is getting a little weird."

Commander Rollins reached for a cigarette. He handed one to Commander Rumlow. "I know you're trying to quit, but that can wait."

"Smoking causes lung cancer," Winter piped up. Now where did he know that? He frowned when he saw the slender white stick. "That's pollution. It makes the fish sick. Then we eat the fish. Them we get cancer." He went back to feeding the birds, but not before he tried to grab a smoke of his own. Now why did he want that? He _wanted_ it - he wanted it like he wanted food - but he didn't know why. He frowned as he tried to think about a tent surrounded by snow and men that weren't his commander. He leaned back against the wall, trying to read the signs in Russian. Why were they looking at him like he was the commander? He was just an Asset! He didn't even get to lead the team of -

Winter fell to his knees and screamed. Everyone on that street in Odesa froze. They looked at him like he was some sort of a zoo animal. Commander Rumlow tried to get him to his feet, but he couldn't. Somehow, he was aware that the birds all flew away. He missed them. He wanted them back. Winter trembled as he forced himself up, looking at his hands like he was expecting nothing more than charred, burnt flesh where his hand used to be. Someone screaming. _Zima! Net!_ The collapsing building and a wall of fire. His own strangled scream. Bullets that flew. Bodies falling in the grey snow. No, it wasn't snow. It was ash. Some of it smelled like burning bodies.

A name. Winter had a name for the dirty blonde man with the grey eyes. Josef. Winter didn't know why he wanted that man, but he did. He wanted that man so much that he was willing to kill for him.

Commander Rumlow snapped him out of it. "Winter?! Winter! Soldat! Report!"

"Functional." The old programming kicked in, but Winter didn't feel the memories slip away. It was like he was the Soldat and Winter. They were the same person. Soldat was a part of him like he was a part of Soldat. Winter thought he liked that. Winter cocked his head. "Heart rate has fallen back to safe levels. Signs of mental distress are decreasing. A wipe is not recommended." That part was a lie, but he hoped Commander Rumlow couldn't see it. Someone named Bucky was there, too, sarcastically suggesting that he should ask this Josef just where he'd been for the past fifty years, if he really was that important.

Somehow, Winter knew. Josef was buried in ice, just like him. But unlike Winter, Josef hadn't been cared for by HYDRA. A horrible thought struck the Soldat. What if Comrade Josef was... _dead_?

Winter followed his Commanders robotically, not really understanding where they were going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1). Zima! Net!: Winter! No!


	5. Chapter 5

Josef didn't pretend to understand what Stark was muttering as he stared at the vast wall of frozen and rusted machinery. Some of them didn't have labels. Others were nothing but dials and rolls of magnetic tape. The air reeked of mineral oil and cleaner and the battery powered lights cast a flickering pall over the place. Josef prowled up and down the rows of monitors. Some of them were still ticking, their ancient and faded readouts still flashing with coded information. Here and there a cable sparked. Things popped and some of the machinery seemed to groan under its own age and weight. Josef stared at it all, not truly understanding what it was. Irisa would have known what the machines did. Alexei, too. Josef, though, had been born to peasants and the most advanced technology he had seen until HYDRA was a horse-drawn reaper binder.

It had been a monster of a machine, over five tons of hammered iron and carved wood, drawn by six straining, sweating horses. If you stuck an arm down the wrong hole, it would easily get lopped off or you might be drawn in. His father had raised some of the first Soviet heavy draft stallions and one of Josef's clearest memories was harnessing an animal that was almost as tall as his father to a sledge. Somehow, Josef knew that his experience with farm equipment and weaponry wouldn't be helping his new handler. As much as he hated the man, Stark was his best way off of this frozen hell hole. If Josef was to be honest, he would admit that he was tired of the cold. It bit his bones too deeply, it always had, and it left him favoring his right leg.

He'd been thrown from a cart when a mine exploded under it. The resulting explosion had thrown the dead draft horse on top of him, crushing his legs and hip. The splintered wood and bits of shrapnel from the harness and rivets had gashed his body, leaving him to bleed out in the pools of fetid mud. Of course, the Red Room and HYDRA had had another use for him, and he had awoken under a bright lamp in the cleanest room he had ever seen. Unlike the others, Josef had been recruited into HYDRA service. He should have died that day, died under the heavy fire from German guns and the cries of his own men. He should have watched his blood stain the snow red and thin the mud that surrounded him, before allowing the wolves and vultures to feast on his bones.

Stalin had had another plan, though, and so did this new handler.

Stark looked up from tinkering under the belly of another great machine. His face was blackened with soot and grease turned his hair into a tangled, slick mess. "Uhh, are you going to help me or not?"

"I don't know how to operate any of these," Josef replied. He knelt down, tracing patterns on the dusty floor. "I am an Asset, a weapon. I do not fix things, I destroy them."

"I know you're into the Winter Soldier, so I'm just gonna say this: you sitting over there and playing Picasso isn't helping you get to America. This isn't B_roken Eagle_," Stark growled. Josef cocked his head. He'd never heard of that book before, so he motioned for Stark to continue. "Uh, so, it's these pilots who crashed down in the middle of Russia - I think they got shot down or something - and they try to get back to America. I think they had to walk over sea ice. There's some hot blonde chick who kills one of the pilots and everyone gets arrested in the end because who the hell knows why. They made some crappy movie about it and I never bothered to read the book series."

"I think I would like to read that," Josef softly said. The books sounded interesting and perhaps his Winter would like it. He could read it to Winter, at least. Winter had enjoyed sitting in his lap as he read aloud. He also might enjoy Josef stroking through his hair once again, just as long as Josef never touched his face. That was alright with Josef - he understood Winter's boundaries and would respect them.

"I thought that when I was in fifth grade," Stark grunted. He slid back under the machine and stuck out a hand. "Hand me the screwdriver with the flat head." Josef did so and crouched beside his master. Stark swore under his breath. "Then the nanny found the books and my dad got me with his belt because I wasn't supposed to be reading drivel like that."

"He sounds like a hard man." Josef cocked his head. Perhaps Stark would want him to kill the man. It wouldn't be the first time he would have done such a thing.

"He was." Stark reached out his hand again. "I need a socket wrench. No, not that one. The really little one with the wires sticking out." Josef grabbed the right one and waited for Stark to keep on talking. "I loved those books, though. Found 'em at the public library and found a way to code them to my writing tablet. No one ever figured out why I was bringing a pane of glass to the library, but as long as I got a couple of books about science shit, no one ever figured I was downloading books. Hammer, please." Stark went back under the machine and scooted out after a few long minutes. "Stand clear. I'm gonna throw the switch. This is the main power source, right?"

"That's what Irisa said."

"Going by the fact that Irisa was a HYDRA tech, I'm not so sure I trust her." Stark grabbed the big handle and flipped. Almost instantly, machines sprang to life. Some started clicking and whirring. Some sparked and spat smoke before they emitted a thick, toxic smoke. The rest came to life in a more muted way, their workings glowing with a brilliant inner light. Stark whooped and slapped Josef's shoulder. "Yeah! We got it! We're live, baby! We are _live_! We got radio, we got connection to some shadow internet, and we got a way to call home!"

Josef cocked his head. "I didn't understand half of that."

Stark laughed. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Josef. All I gotta do now is call Rhodey and have him send a helicarrier or something out here. Maybe he can stop in Wakanda and pick up the convicts." He must have seen Josef's confused look, because he shrugged. "You, sit in the chair. Let me call my friends and then we can see about you getting a shower, Jo-Jo."

"Alright." Josef sat down and awaited further orders. Though he hid it well, he was still trembling with excitement. He was so much closer to finding Winter now than he ever was.


	6. Chapter 6

The commanders had security work now and they left Winter alone in their shabby little apartment. Winter didn't like it very much. He wanted to be with them, doing what they did, but they told him he wasn't ready. Winter hated being bored. There weren't enough books for him and he was tired of watching documentaries off of YouTube. Commander Rumlow had left him his entire collection of Star Wars novels and Winter had spent about fifteen minutes laughing himself silly over a concoction called "Uncle Jesse's Extra Strength Blue Varmint Grease" for reasons he did not know. That had also lead to an idea and since the Commanders weren't here to tell him no, Winter decided to do it.

He used Commander Rumlow's vodka stash to sterilize the bathtub and liberated a set of glass jars from the neighbor's rubbish heap. He gathered the bacteria culture used for healing emergency wounds, looked up ways to feed a bacterial culture, and set about growing his own magic healing juice, as Commander Rollins called it. At least it would keep him busy until they came home. He helped himself to what was left of the vodka - it tasted like shit and burned going down. That was why he liked using it as a cleaning agent. It dried quickly, killed the germs, and left little to no residue. Winter even had this thing called a "playlist" to keep him occupied as he worked.

Hopefully, the Commanders would be grateful of his efforts. If not, well, Winter figured he could make it up for them.

He named his culture 'Steve' for reasons he also didn't understand and left the happily fermenting mason jars to do their thing. He wiped his hands on his flannel pants and set about cleaning up the mess he had made. Feeding the bacteria was easy - a thin broth made of ground up chicken parts, sugar water, and egg white - the hard part was going to be adding the food to the medium without tainting his culture. Winter thought he could do that with a series of glass pipettes. He added that to the grocery list and grabbed a few plums, plus the last book of the _Knight Errant_ series. It was a good book. He enjoyed reading it, but he could have done with more detail on the battles.

Commander Rumlow came home first. He looked exhausted and he just dumped his things on the scrounged couch. He nodded towards Winter as he stumbled to the kitchen. Winter watched him. Commander Rumlow rarely got this tired and Winter was curious about what he was doing. As it turned out, he got something to eat and sat on the couch to go through his phone. Winter rolled his eyes. He was stuck at home all day, not even a cat to keep him company, and his commander was just ignoring him! Winter didn't like that. He put his own book aside and cleared his throat, giving Commander Rumlow a long look. The man ignored him. He did look tired, yes, but Winter had missed him.

"I missed you," Winter softly said. He sat beside Commander Rumlow, whining for attention. "You were gone all day..."

"I have to work, Winter." The Commander sighed softly. "We were pretty lucky to find work and a decent place for you to live." He grimaced some. "If they knew about Jack, we would be run out of town on a rail if we were lucky. If not..." He let the words trail off and Winter understood. Well, he thought he understood, but he wasn't sure. The Commander put his book down and closed his eyes. "Never thought I would say this, but I kinda miss my old job."

"I don't," Winter muttered. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked. "I remember things. Remember it from... before? His name was Josef. We kissed a lot."

"Josef?" Commander Rumlow asked. "Was he nice to you?"

Winter grinned softly. "He liked to read to me. We would cuddle in a camp bed and he would read to me. I would sit in his lap and he would brush my hair as he read. It was... I think it was shorter then?"

He sighed and rubbed his arms again. He didn't like not knowing things about himself. He thought he was lucid now. The bad days when he was only running on programming had mostly faded away. Well, at least, Winter hoped so. He glanced down again, worry the faded floral pattern. He wasn't feeling so happy now. He just wanted to know who he was and who this Josef man was. He was in so many of Winter's memories, along with a man named Steve. Steve was harder to find - Winter had a few grainy memories, but nothing concrete. He had the general image and the tune 'Star-Spangled Man With a Plan', but that was all. It was very annoying to not have anything about himself.

Commander Rumlow nodded and then made a funny face. "Winter, why does the apartment smell like vanilla?"

"I made a bacteria culture," Winter reported. "It smelled, so I used the vanilla extract to make it smell better." He offered up an innocent smile. "It turned yellow, so I named it Steve."

Commander Rumlow groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "Winter. Why? Please tell me you have a fucking good reason why you did that or so help me, your ass will be on the streets!"

"Commander Rollins was running out of the healing gel," Winter replied. "You can't request some from the infirmary, so I made him some." He smiled and didn't understand why Commander Rumlow was gaping at him like he was insane. "It was easy. You need it with raw chicken, sugar water, and egg whites. I can make that myself but I'll need something to feed it."

"I don't want to know, I want to know," Commander Rumlow sighed. He got up, though, and went to look for his vodka. "Winter, are you drinking my booze now?"

"No, I needed to clean the bath tub!" Winter called back. He tried to hide his grin as Commander Rumlow made a strangled scream. "It tasted horrible! I've had better and it was made in an old diesel engine."

"Just go to your room," Brock rasped. He turned his head as Jack came home. "Jackie, deal with your Asset. He drank my booze and named some weird science experiment Steve! It's in your bathroom!"

"Steve isn't an experiment!" Winter shot back. "I'm making healing gel for Commander Rollins! And I like vanilla!"

"The place smells like a cookie's asshole!" Brock growled. He grabbed his hair and shook his head. "Jack... what the fuck are we supposed to be doing here?!"

Commander Rollins raised his hands. "Not rotting in the Raft? Because I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have let us share a cell."

Winter left them too it. He was bored and he wanted to feed Steve again - maybe it would turn red, white, and blue. Winter didn't know why, but he liked those colors. He didn't like them as much as he liked this Josef, but he liked them a lot. Maybe that was something, maybe that wasn't. Winter didn't know why and he didn't know how he would get there.

Or why he would even want too.


	7. Chapter 7

Josef did not like this "helicarrier". It reminded him far too much of the old Sky Islands and cargo planes, except this one was powered by nuclear fission rather than coal and wind. The cargo planes had proved vulnerable to enemy pilots - if the cockpit was blown, the plane would keep flying in a straight line until the system totally depressurized. Cargo planes only moved at a hundred knots an hour, but the damage they could do was extraordinary. The last thing Josef wanted to do was ride this helicarrier down, a la_ Doctor Strangelove_. One of his handlers had loved that movie. Josef thought he remembered a few of the quotes and he slowly worked to reconstruct the film from memory.

It was better than worrying about the engines. This thing was too damn quiet - Josef was used to the roar of a worn motor and orders barking. The fact that his handler could just call one of these like a taxicab was worrying. Stark was a powerful man. He, Josef, was next to nothing. He had a smart mouth, yes, but he was also a man on a mission. To center himself, he stroked over the worn photo. His Winter wasn't smiling, but he was staring straight into the camera. Josef didn't remember where he'd gotten the photo, or how he'd managed to keep it safe for all these years. He didn't want it to be lost on some ride to hell. If the others looked at his photograph, they said nothing.

A dark skinned man kept looking at him. Josef drew away from the others, drawing the blanket over his shoulders. He was cold. The helicarrier was scaring him. The food he was given looked funny and he wasn't so sure about eating noodles. They looked funny and the food really didn't look that appetizing. Josef would eat it, of course, but he wasn't going to enjoy it. He picked at the noodles before finally enjoying the cooked vegetables. He drank the broth and left the mess of noodles for last. He crossed himself - an unconscious habit that should have gotten him beaten - and managed to down the rest in two bites. His belly cramped some, but he drank a little water and curled into his corner.

"Hey."

Josef turned around and glared at the man. He knew where he was on the pecking order. They didn't have to remind him. The man, though, looked friendly and he offered Josef a chocolate bar. He took it gingerly before nibbling at it. Josef really didn't feel like eating, especially something so sickeningly sick, but he forced it down. Water went a long way to wash the taste out of his mouth. He didn't need to drink champagne. Stark looked like he was throwing a party with a blonde woman. Josef ignored them. He didn't like the man, nor did he want the bright orange drink being offered to him. Josef stared at it and curled his lip at the acrid scent. He didn't have to drink it, right? He didn't need to drink any radioactive tracers - they had already mapped his system.

"You gotta name?" The man crossed his arms and looked Josef up and down. "Mine's James. James Rhodes."

"I'm called Josef." Josef eyed the outstretched hand and nudged the man away.

Rhodes was too close. Josef didn't like these people, he was nervous, and he couldn't exactly ease the photograph back into his pocket. He narrowed his eyes. The man didn't get the message. He stayed where he was, still eyeing Josef like he was a particularly plump rabbit. Josef pressed his back into the metal wall, eyeing the rest of the cabin. It was... comfortable, he supposed. Plush carpeting and soaring glass windows. The seats were upholstered in leather and the wood didn't look like it was stained - it reminded Josef, vaguely, of the czar's palace. Mahogany, he thought it was. Of course, this was missing the gold and amber inlays, but it looked similar. That, or Josef was chasing ghosts again.

"So." Rhodes gave him a long look and just a little bit of that was edged in distaste. "Tony says you're a Winter Soldier."

"I am." Josef didn't know why the man was asking him this.

He wanted to be left alone and Rhodes was starting to unnerve him. He wanted off this damn helicarrier and the chocolate made him stomach feel funny. He made an odd face and leaned down. It took Josef a minute to understand what was going on - his body acted on instinct and he threw up on the man's boots. Josef groaned. He truly did not feel well and his stomach was cramping too much for him to care about being punished. Josef rubbed his face and bowed his head again. All that came out was a little bit of clear, burning fluids. He tried to ignore the smell, or the look on Rhodes' face. The man truly didn't look pleased, but he didn't snarl at Josef or rub his face in the vomit.

Instead, Rhodes raised his hand. "Hey, Stark! Get one of your cleaning bots over here! Your Soldier lost his lunch."

Stark raised an eyebrow. "That... whatever. I don't wanna think about it. Too many flashbacks to college."

He snapped his fingers and a gleaming robot trundled over. Josef watched it and took a sip of water. He still felt sick and the last thing he wanted to do was annoy his new handler. Perhaps the man still had his Winter. Perhaps it was all a figment of his imagination. Maybe he was freezing to death and there was nothing he could do about it. He squeezed his armrest. He just wanted to get away from all of this. Josef just didn't like this. He would take any offered baths, yes, but he didn't know what they wanted. Josef just wanted to get away. He watched the two men, his blue grey eyes dull. Rhodes was a friend of Stark, he could tell, and there was likely going to be a punishment for vomiting on the man's shoes.

"You aren't in trouble," Rhodes said. He moved back some and sighed. "I guess the chocolate was a bit much, yeah?"

"It hurt." Josef looked down, not wanting to admit it. He wanted to eat. He liked eating food, but he liked things like stewed turnip greens, rabbit, a little bit of salt pork, turnips, and a little brown bread. This was far too sweet for him - Josef remembered throwing up when an officer fed him champagne jelly. He'd been used to pickled apples. Josef swallowed. "It's so sweet it's nasty."

"Shit." Rhodes leaned back and rubbed his face. "Was the soup okay?"

"That was sweet, too." Josef looked up with hollow eyes and made a face. "Is it all sweet? Do I have to eat that all the time?" He braced himself for the blow and hunched his head. He didn't like this. He wanted to go back to a time he understood. With food he could eat and taste and enjoy. This was nasty and full of sweet things that made his teeth hurt. Josef pointed to the orange fluid. "Is that sweet, too?"

"Yup," Rhodes sighed. "It's an American thing. We like to add corn syrup to everything."

"What's corn syrup?" Josef cocked his head. "I ate corn once. It wasn't sweet, but it tasted good."

Rhodes just shook his head as he got up. There was a strange look on his face, but he just watched Josef from afar. Josef stayed curled up in a corner and sipped at the juice. It tasted good, he thought. Bright and acidic and sweet. Josef thought he could get used to this. So he pulled the blanket over his head and tried to shut out the rest of the world. It was a good fantasy, even though Josef knew it wouldn't last very long.


	8. Chapter 8

Winter tried not to panic when Jack and Brock were gone. He didn't like not being with HYDRA - what if he had a mission and they couldn't find him? What if they needed him and he was gone and Brock got in trouble because of him? That was the last thing Winter needed. He didn't want to hurt the one man who had been kind to him when all the others had tortured him. Winter paced through the little apartment, pawing over the things they had collected. The blankets that smelled like Brock and gun oil. The pillow Jack kept between his legs. It all smelled good to him, like they were home and they were a family. He just wanted to keep these two with him and safe. It wasn't like he'd been missing this for years or something like that.

Something moved in the back room.

Winter put down his book and prowled through the small, dark apartment. It seemed to wrap around him like it was some living thing and he was nothing more than a morsel of meat trapped inside. He grabbed for one of the pistols Brock had bought, keeping it close to his chest. It was a comfortable weight in his hands, like something that he needed to keep himself safe. Winter stayed in the shadows, moving as silently as any cat. Whoever it was, he had no idea who they were and why they were in his apartment. He crept towards the source of the noise, his blue eyes dark and shaded. He pulled the pistol up and nosed it through the curtains Jack had hung only a few days before.

A flash of red hair made him freeze. Winter growled a little bit. He slipped closer to the person, watching her with sharp blue eyes. He knew who she was... he thought. He had no idea who she was, but she was a bit familiar to him. Winter tensed as she walked around the back room. She stroked over his couch and picked up the blanket he was using to wrap up in. Winter bared his teeth. She picked up some of the glass that Brock had collected and walked through everything that he had collected or cleaned up. Brock liked to roll up in blankets. Jack didn't - he was known to walk around naked. Winter had grabbed more of the fluffier blankets for himself and those where the ones she had grabbed.

Winter slipped out of the shadows and placed his pistol against her head. "What are you doing in my house?"

"I've been looking for you." She turned around and looked at him like he was some sort of ghost. "You did good with hiding, you know. Most everyone else thought they were dead. You don't have to stay with them."

"They saved me," Winter softly said. He rubbed his face and bared his teeth. "Why are you in my house?! Why did you come in here?!" He felt himself going crazy, like he didn't know what was going on. "You can't take me back to HYDRA. You'll have to kill me first!"

"They're HYDRA!" the woman snapped. Her hands moved faster than his and she grabbed the pistol. "You don't have to stay here! HYDRA has fallen - you can go back with me, to Steve, to all of us!" She tossed the pistol aside. "He sent me to find you, Bucky. I know the words, but I don't want to use them, but I'm not letting that bastard Rumlow keep you here!"

Winter blinked. "Steve? You mean my vinegar culture?"

The woman looked at him like he's just grown three heads. "Steve Rogers. Don't you remember him? Your best friend from Brooklyn? Don't tell me that they wiped your brain that much!"

"I don't want to go," Winter softly said. He slid down the wall and rubbed his face. "I don't want to go. I don't want to go back to HYDRA. I don't want to leave my house. I like it here. It's nice and it's safe and I don't have to go on missions I don't want to go on."

He heard the front door open and he froze. Winter didn't know what else to do. All he could do was sit there and hold his head in his hands. He didn't know who the red haired woman was or why she was firing at Brock. Winter curled up in a heap. He rocked back and forth, the memories pounding inside of his head. Steve, with his golden hair and his blue eyes. A man named Josef, with his steel grey eyes and his dark, tangled hair. There were both of them in his mind and he knew them. He watched as he fell away from Steve. He watched as Josef collapsed under a hail of gunfire. Winter heard himself screaming. He clawed at his hands as it all came flashing back - who he was, what had happened to him, what had happened to the men he loved.

All he knew was screaming and blood, just like it had been before.


	9. Chapter 9

Josef rubbed his face against the crisp-clean sheets and tried not to purr. They just smelled so good! He'd always loved the way that clean linens smelled and this was just smash his face into the sweet pillows. He rubbed his feet under the blankets some, just happy to roll all over it. It just felt _good_. He'd slept on rags back in Siberia and before that, he'd slept on the ground or he'd been frozen. This, though, would make him soft or make him the most wonderful weapon in the world. Josef didn't know which one and frankly he didn't care. What he had right now made him feel like he was some sort of prince. Like he was the Tsar's long lost son and he was being spirited away into a life of opulence and luxury.

"Sir? Are you okay? Do you need a medic?"

Josef screamed and rolled off the bed. He hit the ground hard, cursing under his breath. That hurt! He poked his head up, swearing softly. "Who's there?! Who's out there!_ Get out here and show yourself_!"

"Calm down, Igor." Stark strolled into the room like he owned the place. He probably did, come to think about it. "You just met JARVIS. Don't freak out and please don't break any of my stuff. JARVIS is a computer system - you can ask him questions. For example, JARVIS, what's the weather going to be like tomorrow and what happened to the _Red October_?"

"The _Red October_ was taken to dry dock in Norfolk, Virginia and the tomorrow will be sunny, approximately 72 degrees Fahrenheit, with a fifty percent chance of rain after 3:00 PM. Is there any relevant cultural material you wish for me to provide to Mr. Josef?"

"Yeah, bring him up to speed on America and some world history," Stark replied. He sat on the bed and snorted softly. "So. You really like to rub your face in bedding? And here I was, thinking that all you liked to do for fun was snipe at me or chop up horse carcasses. Speaking of, JARVIS, order this man some decent American beef. Nothing too greasy, nothing with too much sugar, but something good - something that he's gonna like and something that's gonna convince him that America isn't gonna try and shower Mother Russia with a ton of nuclear warheads!"

Josef raised his hand. "If you wanted to shower my country with missiles, you would have done it already and I would have been called into action. So, no, you do not need to convince me anything about your country, though I would like to know about that... what was it your were talking about? The _Red October_? I think I would like to know about that ship... It is a ship?"

Stark grinned and helped him up. "Yes, it's a ship and yes it's a really cool movie that's about as accurate as Tony the Tiger teaching nuclear nonlinear physics. We're gonna do a movie night and I'm sure we can find you subtitles in Russian. That is, if you can read."

Josef glared at him. "I can read better than you do and in more languages than you. Why don't you treat me like the man I am instead of like I'm some walking, talking doll that can't take care of itself?!"

Stark raised his hands. "I'm not an idiot! I'm just trying to help you!"

Josef got up and gave him a dark look as he jumped up. "Then find the Winter Soldier if you want to help! I know him and I... I think I can help." He grabbed the picture from his pocket and shoved it to Stark, a dark look of wanting in his eyes. "I love him and I want him back."


	10. Chapter 10

Winter didn't want to stay on the Quinjet, but he figured that he had too. They were in charge of him now, as his handlers were in something called 'protective custody' and locked up in the brig. They were in trouble. He was in trouble. There was also soup and he liked soup, especially vegetarian soup, so he was happy. He had soup, he had water, and he had all the blankets that he could ever want. He was clean, too. Winter liked being clean - he remembered that Bucky enjoyed being clean. He also enjoyed having enough to eat and enough warmth so that he wasn't freezing his bits off. Winter didn't really know who Bucky was, but he figured that the man used to live in his head, so he might as well try to treat him nicely.

He curled up under a blanket and gripped the mug of coffee with trembling fingers. He loved coffee. Bucky loved coffee. Josef loved coffee. Brock and Jack loved coffee. The entire bloody world liked coffee, so Winter decided that it was okay that he liked coffee as black as the night sky and twice as strong. He sipped the mug down to the bottom again, closing his eyes in pleasure. It warmed his fingers even more and he closed his eyes in pleasure. It tasted so good and he loved it. He loved eating, probably loved it too much. Bucky had loved good food. Bucky had loved food that wasn't preserved in borax or dried to a husk. Winter, though, wasn't Bucky. He didn't have to like the same things that Bucky liked, though he had to admit that Tom Corbett was a pretty cool character.

Someone knocked on the door. "Hey. Hey. You doing okay?"

Winter looked up and nodded. "I'm fine. Will I get to see Brock and Jack soon? Why are you protecting me from them? They didn't do anything bad to me and I really do like them. They deserve to have coffee with me, because we all like coffee. Do you like coffee?"

The man, a kindly looking fellow with soft brown eyes and moon pale skin, smiled down at him. "I like coffee, too, but I don't think they can have a dinner date with you. They're dangerous and they're wanted fugitives. We don't want to risk them hurting you."

Winter tried not to roll his eyes. He didn't want to get them in trouble and rolling his eyes would be a surefire way to do so. They might be killed or tortured because he did something bad. He'd seen it happen. One of his friends had been killed and tortured in front of him because he was bad. Hogan had been an amazing friend of his - he was a gentle man who had been forced into something that was far bigger than he was. He'd been tortured to death and he'd died in screaming agony because Bucky had tried to escape. Winter didn't know if he forgave Bucky for that or if he'd take that one to be grave. He did live in the man's head, after all. Bucky had given him life.

After he was killed, of course.

"Who are you?" Winter asked. He stood up, trying to understand the man. "Why do you like me?"

"Because I'm a doctor," the man replied. "But not that kind of doctor. I'm Doctor Banner and I know you're Bucky Barnes."

"Winter." Winter took a drink of coffee and cocked his head. "Bucky's dead. The Nazis killed him and I took his place. I don't know if I should thank them for rip their guts out." He cocked his head and tried to think. "Was that too violent? Brock tells me that I shouldn't be that violent. It scares people. But it's a fine thing to say if you're mad at someone. I don't know if I should trust Brock."

Banner sighed. "I don't like the man very much, but he helped you when you needed it. He saved your life."

"There is that." Winter looked down. "I miss a man named Josef. Do you know him?"

"I know him." Banner offered him a tired smile and showed him a picture that was so crisp, it looked like he was standing right in front of Winter. "He's been living in Stark Towers for about two weeks now. From what I've heard, he's a bit of a handful."

Winter sprang up and kissed a very stunned Doctor Banner on both cheeks. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I'm so happy I could cry..."


	11. Chapter 11

Josef paced in the small room, his eyes dark. He wanted to get out of here, but they had restricted him from going most places. He could go to the kitchen, to his room, and to the gym at certain hours of the day. If he wanted entertainment, he could ask JARVIS to download a book for him or he could rent a movie. It was all very boring and the choices for his food weren't much better. Josef had discovered that he liked to drench the fried potato wedges in the rich, thick gravy that went with the thin, nice pieces of steak. He could have lived without the broccoli and the boiled cabbage, though. He wondered what Stark thought was good food for him, because this was a far cry from the bars and gruel he was used too.

He wasn't going to complain about the food choices, though.

Someone knocked on the door and Dr. Banner walked in. Josef turned away from him, as the last thing he wanted was for the man to run more tests on him. They had already sent him through something called an MRI and then a CAT scan - Stark said that it was to see if he was injured or if his brain was sick. Josef wondered if it was to see how messed up his brain was. He had never been very malleable. He'd always been hard to handle and all the years he'd been left alone probably hadn't helped matters any. He had always been crazy, if you counted not wanting to be a slave to HYDRA crazy. He just hoped that this Dr. Banner wasn't going to recommend that he be euthanized. 

"We found someone you might be interested in." Dr. Banner sat beside him, his chocolate brown eyes gentle and kind. He took out his phone, showing Josef a copy of the Winter picture. "We found him in Ukraine with Rumlow and Rollins. He wants to see you, Josef. I think he's missed you."

"I want him." Josef whispered. "I'll do whatever you want if I just get to see him."

"Then come with me." Dr. Banner took him by the hand and lead him down the hall and into an elevator. He was a bit nervous and tried to hang back. Dr. Banner must have noticed that he was nervous, so he tried to soothe Josef's nerves. "It's not going to hurt you, Josef. It's just an elevator. It's quite safe - Tony designed these himself."

Josef didn't say anything. He just wanted to see his Winter. It had been so long and he just barely kept himself from keening with want and need. He wanted something good in this life. No matter how much HYDRA had tried to wipe him, they couldn't take the love he had for Winter. They might have been forced to fight each other, but they had made up afterwards. He had loved his Winter. Winter loved him. The one thing that he didn't know was if Winter still remembered all of him or if the memories had faded just a little. The waiting seemed to kill him, but he didn't want to bolt away from the man who had been so kind to him. He didn't want to hurt the man and Josef was freakishly strong.

Dr. Banner let him into the room. He stepped back, letting Josef get closer to Winter. Josef walked closer to him, his expression oddly gentle. He hadn't see the other man in so long. He wasn't expecting the way Winter held himself or how scared he looked. Winter's long hair had become greasy and stringy and his once moon pale skin was sallow and almost grey. He just huddled up on the bed, his body wrapped in the warm blankets. Josef patted the bed as he sat down. Winter looked up. He looked shocked, stunned almost, and Josef pulled him close. He wrapped the smaller, thinner man up in his arms. Winter pressed into his body and made a quiet keening sound.

"I missed you," Winter whispered. "I thought you had left me."

"I never left you," Josef murmured. He kissed Winter's cheek and nuzzled him. "They took me away from you." He winced some when he felt how greasy and nasty Winter's hair was. "You need a bath, my_ zima_. Have they not been letting you bathe?"

"I don't like water," Winter replied. His blue eyes looked distressed and distant. "It reminds me of the cold water they used to hose us off with. It was like getting ice in my skin. It hurts. I don't want to hurt like that and I don't want you to hurt like that."

"It's a warm bath." Josef kissed all the exposed skin he could see. Winter tasted nasty - like sweat and old dirt. He scooped Winter up in his strong arms and soothed him with more kisses when he started becoming more nervous. "It's okay, Zima. I'm not going to drop you and I'm not going to let you get cold, I promise. We're just going to borrow the hot tub I saw in the gym."

He took the stairs and he didn't even trip once. Winter clung close to him. He hid his face when Josef started the water. He made sure to run it nice and warm. Winter seemed to like that and he willingly stripped his clothes off. Both men sank into the warm bath. The tub was nice and deep, perfect for soaking injured muscles and washing out greasy, nasty hair. Winter just relaxed into the warm water and nuzzled kisses into Josef's shoulders. Josef kissed him back. He loved how gentle and kind his Zima was. How perfectly they fit together in the tub. Josef had truly missed this - it had been far too long. Josef couldn't push things too far or too fast, though.

He didn't want to hurt his Zima, no matter how much it might hurt him.


End file.
